Rays of sun slice through the slats in the blinds, painting the down comforter with peels of warmth. I smile, hugging into my cocoon.
Then my eyes flash open and I bolt upright in Ransome’s penthouse bed.
What fucking time is it?
I scramble for my phone but can’t find it.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Sunshine means it’s late. Nine, ten, maybe? Piles of clothes on the floor remind me of what I half remember from the night before.
I grab Ransome’s dress shirt and throw it on, rushing out to the living room to find my phone.
“I’m going to be late,” I mumble in a panic. “I’m going to be so?—”
“You’re not late for anything.”
I screech to a stop.
Ransome’s voice comes from in the kitchen. Panic slowly drains from me as I take him in. He’s wearing only black boxer briefs, the rest of him exposed, and he’s cooking. The scent of coffee and toasted bagels fills my senses as the rest of my brain struggles to process all of it.
We fucked last night. With a tap of his hand on the hood of the car, he told Ivan to leave and we fucked. Jesus fucking Christ, how didthatslip my mind? It’s not like I could dream any of that. Even my wildest fantasies aren’t that dirty.
But the craziest part, the part I can’t seem to wrap my mind around, is that Ransome is still here. It’s 9 A.M., andhe’s still here. At the penthouse. With me.
In his fucking underwear.
“My alarm didn’t go off,” I say, because what the fuck else do I say?
“I turned it off,” he states while gingerly piling lox on top of two sliced bagels. He licks his fingers and garnishes it with capers before picking up both plates and rounding the counter to set them down at the small table that I doubt has ever been used.
“What about work?” I ask.
Ransome goes back into the kitchen, grabs two black mugs of coffee, and hands one to me. “We are working from home today.”
I take the mug and nod. The steam reaches my nose, roasty and sweet from the cream and— is that caramel?
He doctored it for me. With caramel.
I melt. It smells amazing. Everything that is happening right now, wild as it might be, is amazing.
My brain, being a girl’s brain, keeps echoing the words over and over again…
He’s still here.
He didn’t leave.
He stayed the night.
I don’t know what it means, or even what I want it to mean. I just know that I feel… fuzzy. In a warm and happy way.
I sit down at the tables with him, crossing my legs because I am still naked under his shirt, and I take a bite of the lox bagel.
“Good?” he asks as I chew slowly.
“It’s lovely,” I say, covering my mouth with my fingertips so he doesn’t see me chewing.
“Good. Now let’s get started.”
